


Full Amenities

by NamelyCranberries



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: BDSM, Choking, Clit Play, Dom Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), F/M, Implied Consent, but he likes you, rick is basically just a dick, so its a pretty realistic relationship with him tbh, some non con with drugs, the non con is not aggressive and is mostly about a surprise that's brought in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelyCranberries/pseuds/NamelyCranberries
Summary: You and Rick have just finished escaping from a planet of aliens with long, pointed chins, and he needs to stop to get a new ride. But the car shop's closed. Guess he'll just have to... share a hotel bed with you... hahah jk.. unless..?





	Full Amenities

“You dick-chinned, slime-pussy-loving fucks are in for a-eeeughh-a real ride!”

The ship kicks into a higher gear and you can hear fading screams; two of the four aliens that were clinging to the ship are now plummeting to the surface below. After a sudden lunge to the right, and a dull thud from under the ship, Rick steadies the ship. 

“Boom! Into a rooftop. Classic shake-em-off move, cucks!” Rick cheers at the last two falling bodies as he takes another swig from his flask. “Now w-eeugh-we need to find a new ride cause this one’s fucked.” He says, eyes hooded as he tends to the ship controls, locking onto the best course. 

-

Since leaving the planet, he hasn’t looked at you, or really done anything but talk to himself loud enough for you to hear to suggest he notices your existence, but something in you feels his peripheral gaze.

After a few minutes the ship slows into the atmosphere of a small dusty-looking planet. As the ship thuds to a stop on the planet’s surface, Rick’s gaze flutters over to your seat before he gets up. The door clangs to the ground as he steps out of the ship. 

“Well, it was a good ship, but those Randolphians really did a number on it.” There’s a pause before, “Well, fuck it,” and Rick takes out a small round device (you have no clue where from), activates something on it, opens the ship’s gas tank, and drops it in. 

“Time to go,” he says, turning and grabbing you by the arm to pull you as he walks towards the road sign behind you. Once at the sign, he says, “Hmm… looks like the nearest town is 5 miles that way.” He points to the east. 

“Well,” there’s an explosion behind you, “let’s get moving!” And he starts toward the town. 

-

As you approach the first building, Rick turns to you.

“Alright, listen. These people… t-they don’t underst-euughh-and creatures like you and me. We’re monstrosities to them! We’re fucking mutated-slime-creature-with-two-dicks-level fucked up. Real jabba-the-hut-meets-a-kraken type abominations. Fucking two-girls-one-cup-Matthew-McCon—”

“Alright! I get it!” You interrupt.

“Anyway, you and I need to pretend –eughh— to be one of them, so we have at least 6 limbs. I’d prefer 10, so we’re a little less horrific, but we’ll have to work with it.” He takes a curtain off of the nearest shop window and drapes it around his shoulders.

“Here, g-eughh-et in.” 

“W-what do you mean?” You ask, peering at his new garment. 

“I mean get in the fucking curtain. Just stand in front of me and move when I move so I don’t trip! Just don’t fu-eugh-cking blow my cover!” 

“Alright, jeez.” You place yourself in front of him and he closes the curtain. You are left in complete darkness, with nothing but the warm presence of Rick’s body behind you to give you an idea of where to go. 

He’s taller than you, so it isn’t too difficult to hide your head near his chest, especially since—as you’ve seen through the small breaks in the curtain from time to time—the main population of this planet have huge, bulbous chests, so they’re shaped precisely like a human with another, shorter human standing in front of them. 

“Wow guess we got lucky, huh?” you whisper up to Rick.

“Yeah, it’s almost like we’re in a badly written fanfiction where the author simply needed an excuse to get you to be standing directly in front of me with my dick pressed against the small of your back.”

You stay quiet at this and start to blush, but at that moment, Rick stops moving, so you do the same, and Rick says, “Oh, what a lovely set of 4 stairs.” So, the two of you climb as smoothly as possible to the landing, where Rick guides you to the inside of a building. Once inside, the clamor of alien voices greets you. Rick yells something guttural and a voice to your right responds in a similar dialect. 

“Come on, that’s the guy in charge,” Rick mumbles down to you out of the side of his mouth.

As the two of you walk towards where the voice came from, a strong stench of what must be perfume on this planet assaults your nose. Once at the counter, the smell persists, and the stranger’s voice returns.

“How can I assist you today, Grrouba?” You hear the stranger’s voice in English, but still just as guttural. 

“Wondering about where I might find a ship that can take me to Earth.”

“Ah, well then you’ve come to the right planet. Right across the street is a vendor, but he doesn’t open until sunrise. Can I offer you a room for the night?”

“Ah –euugh— sure why not?” 

“And will you be needing the full amenities?” The guttural voice asks. 

“The what?” 

There’s a pause as you assume the owner gestures toward something. Whatever it is, you feel Rick’s muscles tense slightly, and you can just barely feel movement on the small of your back. 

“Nah, I'm good, thanks,” Rick says smoothly, then he turns and guides you towards the room. 

Once inside, he flings the curtain to the ground and sits himself on the bed, opening the minifridge under the bedside table and emptying the nearest tiny bottle of liquor into his mouth. Once it’s empty, he sighs and stares at the carpet, but he’s clearly not looking at it. 

“Hey, uhh… what did he say about amenities back there?” You hear yourself say before you notice you’re doing it. 

“Oh, that? It’s just s-eughh-omething this planet has at some hotels.” His eyes don’t move from the ground, but his hands move to get another bottle from the minifridge. 

“I mean, we could probably afford whatever it was, right? Why not… get it?” 

He chugs the second bottle before responding.

“Do I seem like a man of luxury to you? You think I’m the type to pay extra at a restaurant so some u-eughh-nderpaid worker can sing me happy birthday? Do you get that impression from me?” A twinge of his usual frustration was in his eyes as he said it, but still they didn’t move from the carpet. 

“No, I’m just curious about alien stuff, I guess. Figured when in fucking Rome, you know!” You know that you don’t sound half as intelligent or commanding as Rick, but it still feels nice to yell at him sometimes. 

“Well, if you want an eight-tentacled hooker to come knocking, by all means, but I’m going to the bar if you do.” 

This makes you pause. So, it was hookers that he was offered? He was clearly somewhat interested at the time, but I guess anyone would be put off by eight tentacles. 

Just as you think this, Rick says, “And if you think I declined because I’m weirded out by something as trivial as what fleshy accessories the hole I fuck has, you’re wrong.”  
When you look up at him, you see that he’s looking at you now, eyes hooded, no visible emotion in his face. 

“Okay. Then why did you decline? Think I’d cramp your style?” You cross your arms. 

His eyes don’t move from yours. You notice suddenly how hot it feels in the room.

His silence disarms you and you rest your arms. “R-Ric—?”

He’s on you before you can finish, and with surprising strength, he pushes you to the wall behind you. He holds your arm above your head while his right hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer: close enough to feel the bulge growing in his pants.

“W-wait… Rick…” Your body is aching for him to keep going, to hold you down and—

With one quick movement, you are thrown onto the bed, and before you can orient yourself, Rick’s weight is pressing on you again. He grabs your wrists and transfers them both to his right hand, holding them above your head on the pillow. His other hand undoes your pants as he sloppily kisses your neck, moving to your collarbone. 

Once done with your zipper, he continues kissing down to your chest, but you’re shirt’s still in the way. Grunting lustfully, he pauses long enough to pull your shirt off and masterfully unhook your bra, then quickly reclaims possession of you. With your hands held down and his grip teasing at your neck, the final effort of your last rational thought escapes as you moan, “W-wait… w—” but you are quickly cut off by,

“S-shut up. I knew where the car shop was, I just –eugh— I j-just needed to be alone with you.” The desperation in his voice and the way his hand keeps moving from a chokehold to a gentle caress pushes you over the edge. You close your eyes as his lips dance down your chest, waltzing generously over your nipples before continuing to your naval. Your breathing deepens, and your back arches. The hand that was holding your neck moves to pin down your chest. 

“M-moving too much…” Rick mumbles on his way to your inner thigh. 

As he travels further down, his hands momentarily release you to pull your unzipped pants down to your ankles. Quickly, though, they return to their previous positions, and he raises himself so that you are eye to eye. As he grips your throat again, he leans in. His lips meet yours, and your stomach does a somersault. You can taste the whiskey on his lips, and you can feel your face reddening, but your eyes are closed. His hand tightens its grip and you moan into his mouth. He reacts with a shudder and a low breath, and the hand on your throat leaves. 

Before you can open your eyes to see where it’s gone, you feel him guide himself into you. Were your hands free, they would have clutched the pillow by your head, but his grip remains unchanged and unbreakable. Once the tip is in, his hand returns to your throat and clutches, pulling you down while simultaneously thrusting up into you. The impact stupefies you and your eyes roll back as a high moan escapes your lips. 

For a moment, Rick is still, his erection filling you up and his lips brushing yours. 

His eyes flash to yours and a smirk pulls at his lips. He quickly begins thrusting in and out of you, aiming and hitting your G-spot a little too precisely, his right hand still using your throat for leverage, and he plants another brief kiss on your lips. 

Suddenly, your hands are free, and his face is gone from yours. You open your eyes to see him, still holding your throat and still fucking you just as intensely, reach over and grab a third drink from the minifridge. You would have scoffed, but he notices you looking and tightens his grip on your throat, effectively silencing you, before downing the drink and tossing it to the side.

His face returns to yours, the vodka on his breath close enough to seep into your mouth, and after looking you up and down, he leans back again. Then, while still inside of you, he flips you onto your stomach and moves his hands so that his left is wrapped in your hair and his right is clutching your hips. 

With vicious speed and undeniable strength, he thrusts into you, pushing your head down so that his cock hits your walls with every thrust. The new angle feels somehow deeper than before and a moan escapes your lips again. Rick leans down, his mouth next to your ear, and he whispers,

“Exactly how long do you think you could last if I really g-eugh-gave it my all?” his tone seemingly not affected by the pace that he was maintaining.

But, being the brat that you are, you, of course, respond, “Unh… try me,” trying your best to sound composed. 

You don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling, and, without any hesitation, he pulls something from his coat, and you feel a needle enter your neck. The pain stimulates you, but you can’t tell if it’s positively or negatively. 

Either way, you yell, “H-Hey, what was that?” as best as you can between his continuing thrusts. 

“Oh, just a little something I whipped up that’s basically a chemical that makes your synapses respond to my verbal commands. ‘Chemical Obedience’, I call it. Don’t worry, it’ll only last about f-eughh-four hours, so it’ll wear off before I’m done with you.” 

The tinge of thrill you get from hearing that doesn’t stop you from protesting again:

“Well, what are you going to make—”

“Shut up.”

And you find that you can’t make your mouth open. As if all of the muscles in your body work except for the ones that open your mouth. 

“Now, stand still.”

Whereas before, you were gripping the bed, and your muscles tensed with his movements, all of your muscles now feel limp. 

“There you go… see –eugh—, that’s not so hard, is it?” Rick smirks as he continues to fuck you, occasionally slowing down to torturous speeds that stimulate every centimeter he touches, then speeding back up once your tolerance for it has time to fall down, making a horrible mixture of teasingly slow and desperately fast that leaves you in a purgatory of pleasure.

As he continues, the need to twitch, to moan, to roll your eyes, anything to release some of this pent-up energy becomes unbearable and, for a moment, your leg seems to break from the serum and twitches. Immediately, Rick’s hand pulls back on your hair and your head tilts back.

“Look, the serum can only do so much if you’re gonna be sending signals that strong to your limbs. Either keep it under control or I make it more difficult for you.” 

The callous tone in his voice sends a wave of a fear—or rather temptation—through your body. 

But again, as he continues, the need to move grows too strong and your hand grips the pillow by your head. Once again, Rick’s reaction is instantaneous. You feel his hands on your wrists, pulling them behind your back and binding them with his belt. His hands quickly return to keeping you in place.

“Again, either keep things under control, or I make it more difficult for you,” he says condescendingly. 

You roll your eyes but get the message. No matter how hard he hits or how good it feels, you are now determined to stay still. He notes this and seems impressed, lightening his thrusts and kissing between your shoulder blades. 

After some time, though, his demeanor changes from rewarding back to challenging. He wants to push you further. 

With one hand still on your hips, he releases your hair and reaches his hand around to your front. It’s not until his finger touches your clitoris that you realize how sensitive you’ve become to new stimuli. Your breath shudders. 

As he presses down and begins making delicate circles, your mind goes blank, all thought centered around the amazing feeling of his fingers on your clit and the denial of movement despite it. 

Your eyes are too desperate to be held by Rick’s serum, and they roll back into your head as he lightly rubs, sending both waves of pleasure and waves of torment at a desire for a heavier touch. 

A croon escapes your lips, and Rick gets too proud of himself to contain it.

“Do you really have so little self-control that you can’t even stay quiet for more than f-five minutes?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and his finger presses harder onto your clit.

Again, a moan escapes you, and, again, Rick’s ego is stroked by it. 

“It’s either that or you’re just purposefully breaking my rules to piss me off,” his finger presses harder into your clit as he rubs, and your whole body heats up, unable to release any energy by moving. 

“Right?” Rick persists, changing his speed and moving his finger as if searching for something.

As his finger moves, it passes over a spot that sends a bolt of electricity through your body, and you gasp.

“Found it,” Rick says to himself as he begins to target the spot with his finger, circling over it and angling his finger in a way that you didn’t know was possible, shooting electricity through you with every spiral, while still thrusting into you at a surprising speed. 

Through barely open lips, you manage to eke out, “R-Rick… please.”

“Oh, yeah, beg all you want. I’m riding this thing till the end, baby.”

Suddenly, he pulls out and the length of his cock and the pressure of his finger are replaced by a warm wet mouth over your clit. His tongue picks up where his finger left off, somehow able to pinpoint the exact spot to make you want to squirm. Within minutes, your legs are twitching almost as freely as without Rick’s serum, and your heart is fluttering like a panicked butterfly. You start to feel the buildup of a climax, but Rick pauses and says, 

“Oh yeah, no cumming.” 

And you feel your climax stop in its tracks, unable to release the energy it’s been building up. The result is a feeling akin to holding in a sneeze. The need to cum fills up every inch of your body and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything else to lessen the tension contained inside of you. All you can think is Fuck, Rick… Fuck… please let me cum… please make me cum…

And, right on cue, Rick says, “Okay, now you can cum.”

And the release is like nothing you’ve felt before. Every atom in your body that ached for release finally gets it. The pleasure is like pure heroin, and as you quiver, Rick pushes himself into you and starts thrusting rapidly again, heightening the pleasure of your climax and bringing himself to his own. As he reaches his, his grip on your hips tightens and he pushes in as deep and as hard as he can, hitting your back wall and filling you with his cum. 

He collapses onto your back as he catches his breath, heaving and sweaty. After a minute, he uses your shoulders to push himself up and removes the belt binding your hands, sliding off the bed. He grabs another drink from the fridge and starts pulling on his pants.

“Oh, and also, these people are used to all types of aliens and literally nothing would have put them off. It was just a shitty excuse to put my penis on the small of your back,” he says, zipping up his pants and finishing off the drink. 

You chuckle and go to pull on your pants, but a hand reaches out and catches your wrist. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you think I was done? I still have three hours left.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic in years, but I've been driven to creative madness by the fact that nobody else on this goddamn bitch of an earth seems to think that Rick Sanchez is attractive INDEPENDENT of his relationship with Morty (gross, guys... come on), and I'm too particular about character dialogue to read most fanfic so I'll just do it myself, I guess. 
> 
> I'm just a sapiosexual who heard "smartest man in the universe" and is now trapped loving a 2-dimensional alcoholic figment of a stranger's imagination.
> 
> ~enjoy~
> 
> *By the way, "Grrouba" is just this planet's title. Like Mr or Mrs, only they just have the one word for every gender. Real aliens have culture, people. They aren't just cardboard cutouts of humans spray-painted purple. So, yeah. I gave this imaginary planet a word of its own, so that it may leave one single unique mark on our universe before ceasing to exist after I end the smut that I've written about myself and a mad scientist.


End file.
